Chapter Fourteen
Michael came downstairs to find the wrapping paper neatly folded in a small pile and sitting on their table in the back. He’d changed into the matching fisherman’s knit sweater that the Rutledge family had gifted him for Christmas and pulled it down over the top of his suit pants, glad for its warmth. He kept the heat down when the store was closed in order to save money. Carrying his cup of coffee, he sat down at the back of the table where it was clear. Leslie was at the front of the store, gathering up her Christmas presents.
She had her arms full when she stopped at the table. “You got your cup of coffee, I see. I’ll take these upstairs and then I want to give you your present.”
“Whatever you wish, my dear.”
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Now you’re sounding like a robot.”
When she came back down, she wore her Christmas sweater and a pair of pants with an elastic waist that she could still get into. She placed a small box beautifully wrapped in silver foil with a blue ribbon perched on top. “Will you open your present now?”
“Of course.” He’d reverted to a polite façade, as if I were a stranger. I hated his super politeness.
He unwrapped his gift and took out the watch. He looked at it as if he’d never seen one before. What was wrong with him? I suppose he hated it.
“It has an inscription on the back,” I told him.
He turned the watch over. When he’d read the inscription, he said, “I hardly think I deserve this now.”
“Of course you do,” I said and rose from the chair to kiss him on the forehead. “I just realized how much you’ve had to deal with this year, Michael. Starting up a business, marrying a pregnant wife. I’m sorry I carried on about the dish drainer. I do remember when I said that’s what I wanted. My mistake. Forgive me?”
She looked so pretty and so contrite that his heart melted. “Of course I forgive you.”
“Let’s be extravagant. Let’s take a taxi to Central Park and throw snowballs at each other.”
“This is your idea of a good time?”
“Yes, Michael. Remember I grew up in Florida. I think snow is wonderful.”
When they arrived at the park, they discovered many other people had the same idea. Michael was still looking around at what he considered to be crazy people, throwing snowballs at one another, when Leslie hit him with one squarely in the chest. He retaliated, but aimed at her knees. He didn’t want to hit her anywhere near her abdomen.
“Oh, Michael, you’re no fun. You’re not going to hurt the baby. Come on, give me a good one.”
And so he did and she turned around so the snowball hit her in the back. He indulged her by throwing snowballs until he could see she was tiring. He knew she wouldn’t admit it. “We need to go home, love. I…think I left the coffee pot on.”
That persuaded her to let him hail a taxi and make the trip home.
He debated about keeping the store open during the week between Christmas and New Year’s, and he decided he had nothing to lose by opening. If they made even one sale, it would pay for the extra heat. As it happened, he did make a sale. A man and woman came in and bought a settee that Leslie had reupholstered with some beautiful fabric, a paisley material in jewel colors of blue and ruby that cost twenty three dollars a yard. Michael had protested about the cost, but Leslie had insisted they would be able to put a higher price on the settee because of the gorgeous fabric. She’d refinished the walnut frame and polished it to a high sheen. When the couple paid the price that Leslie had printed on the ticket, a price that reflected a hundred dollar profit, and walked out of the store happy with their purchase, Leslie turned a triumphant face to Michael. “See? Good taste always pays off.”
The evening of New Year’s, Michael sat with Leslie in front of the television set to watch the ball drop in Times Square. He thought this a strange custom and was not sure he understood it. But if thousands of people did, perhaps he was the one in the wrong.
Two days later, Leslie brought a copy of the New York Times to Michael, her face white with shock. “Adam’s been killed.” She showed him the article. “His car got hit by a drunk driver the night of New Year’s Eve. It was a direct hit on the driver’s side of Adam’s car. His fiancée is in the hospital, but she’s expected to survive. Oh, Michael. I feel so bad for his mother. She must be devastated.”
“She was not nice to you, Leslie.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel sorry for her. It gives the time of the funeral here.”
“Do you want to go?”
“No. I…I can’t. I couldn’t bear it.”
She felt half sick all that day. She remembered the good times she’d had with Adam, how sweet he’d been in bed with her. She remembered his beautiful hands and his handsome face and how he had laughed when she told him about the onion soup incident. It seemed impossible to think he would no longer laugh, or speak, or walk on a stage to bring pleasure to an audience who would watch him portray a character.
Michael watched her carefully that day. It wasn’t good for the baby she carried for her to be so upset. He hoped she would soon recover from the shock.
In the following days, Leslie seemed to return to her usual good spirits. Michael was glad for that. His life was much easier when Leslie was in a good mood. A fact of married life, he discovered.
He slipped into a daily routine, showering, dressing, descending the steps to the store, waiting for that bell on the door to ring, hoping for someone to buy something.
Toward the end of January, the visitor he’d been waiting for finally arrived.
“Is my money ready?” Mortelli asked, supremely confident of a positive answer.
“No, Mr. Mortelli, it is not. You have no claim to any money here.”
“I thought we discussed this.”
“We did. Now here’s what I have to say on the matter. You threatened my wife. Now I shall tell you what happens if you or any of your consorts come in here again. I’ll be wearing a wire that will record our conversation. The police will come and pick up you or your minion. When that happens, I will find your mother. I will explain to her how you were threatening my wife who is carrying my child, that I regretted reporting you to the police but what else could I do. What do you think she will say?”
“You son of a…”
“I do not think that is what she will say. I think she will tell you how ashamed she is of you.”
“You don’t know that for a fact.”
“I think I do. I’ve already visited your mother. I told her I was a friend of yours and that I understood she liked African violets and had dozens sitting at her north window. I gifted her with a brand new one, Optimara. She was overjoyed to get it. We became good friends.”
“You’re quite the clever guy, aren’t you?”
“I will do anything I need to do to keep my wife safe. You would do the same, would you not?”
Michael thought the man gave a low growl in his throat. “I suppose Mama even came to the store and bought something.”
“As a matter of fact, she did. Didn’t you notice the lovely Feng shui Tang horse on the mantel?”
By now, Mortelli’s hands had tightened into fists. Michael decided he should not bait the man any longer.
“Perhaps you’d like to leave now?” Michael said politely.
“Perhaps I would.”
With Mortelli’s leave taking, Michael found himself settling into his days, having them fit him like a comfortable old shoe while Leslie grew rounder and rounder.
When March rolled around. Leslie said, “It’s St. Patrick’s Day, Michael. Don’t you want to march in the parade? After all, you are Irish.”
“I’m not that Irish.”
“You don’t like to do anything that calls attention to yourself, do you, Michael? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a criminal, hiding from the law.”
“I’m not a criminal, Leslie.”
“Oh, I know that, my love. I’m just teasing
you.”
The nights supplied him with a subtle torture. Leslie could no longer make love, but she liked to lie on her side, with her back spooned to his chest. His damnable body would react to her closeness.
“I can feel you, Michael.”
“I’m sorry, my love.”
“You’re not the only one. I can’t wait to have this baby.”
It was a sentiment he heartily agreed with.
By April, she’d gotten quite large, a fact she remarked on about ten times a day, it seemed to Michael.
The last week of April, which by the doctor’s calculation, meant she had only two more weeks to wait, they had a visitor at the store.
Mrs. Clarke.
Michael happened to be in the front of the store when she came in.
“I know I’m probably not welcome here,” she said, before Michael could say a word.
“I guess that depends on why you’ve come.”
“I’d like to see Leslie.”
“Leslie is in the last trimester of her pregnancy. I do not want her upset.”
“I just want…I need to ask her something.” The woman’s face was wreathed with sorrow.
“I am sorry for your loss of your son,” Michael said.
“I thank you for that. May I see Leslie please? I promise not to upset her.”
“She’s in the back, sitting at our table.”
Mrs. Clarke followed him back to their private area. “Hello, Leslie. Oh, no, don’t get up. Your husband told me I could speak to you for a few minutes.” Her lips lifted in a slight smile. “I have strict orders not to upset you.”
“You won’t upset me, Mrs. Clarke. What can I do for you?”
I sat back down in the chair and braced myself. I had a feeling I knew what the grandmother of my child wanted.
“I’d like…I want to see the baby when he…or she…is born. I know I’m asking a lot after the way I talked to you, but I…” tears glistened in her eyes, “I can’t bear it that there is a part of Adam in the world and I’ve cut myself off from his child with my own terrible words.”
I rose to sit in the chair next to Mrs. Clarke and cover the woman’s hand with my own. “Of course you must be a part of your grandson’s life. As long as you promise not to spoil him.”
Mrs. Clarke smiled through her tears. “You are such a generous young woman. I should have recognized that if Adam loved you, you must be very special.”
“I did love your son,” I said quietly.
“When he died, I thought I might as well take my own life. He was all I had. Then I remembered that he had a child. And I…I thought I might have something to live for, after all.”
“When the baby is born, my mother plans to fly up and Althea wants to be there. You may as well join the group.”
“Oh, Leslie. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“I think I do.”
Michael, listening, sighed. Before Leslie was finished, they’d have a veritable gaggle of women at her bedside. He hoped there would be room for him.
When Leslie’s time came, to his delight he was the only one allowed to don a set of scrubs and a mask and enter the delivery room with Leslie. She’d weathered the first part of labor well, although she’d wanted water and though he’d been warned to not give her anything, she’d pleaded with him so much that Michael gave her water to sip. She promptly threw it up.
Now, in the delivery room, Leslie was given an epidural to relieve the pain. Michael watched as the baby’s head came into view. Once the head was visible, the rest of the baby came in a whish of amniotic fluid and tiny arms and legs.
The attending nurse cleaned out the baby’s mouth and nose and the little boy let out a lusty cry. “Is he all right?”
“Yes, my love. He’s fine.” Michael hardly had time to process this wonderful miracle when the nurse explained that she would take the baby away and clean him up. They would then conduct the tests they were required to do on a newborn. When they were finished, the child would be brought into the room where Leslie was to stay. Michael was quite sure they would find nothing wrong with that little boy.
He took off his scrubs in the outer room and went out to the group of people who waited. Leslie’s family were all there, along with Althea Hudson and Endora Clarke.
Being first time parents, they had come to the hospital a little sooner than they needed to and Michael had been with Leslie for twenty-four hours before the baby was born. He was tired, both from being anxious about Leslie and knowing it was his job to keep her family informed. When he came out from the delivery room, Elizabeth took one look at his face and after hearing the news that it was a boy, and mother and son were doing fine, she decided they should all go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. She took Endora Clarke by the arm, and knew Althea would follow.
Michael returned to the private room where Leslie already lay in bed, the room that would be Leslie’s until they were released to go home, probably tomorrow. As weary as he was, he knew Leslie must be exhausted. She lay still, her dark lashes fanned over her cheek. Her black hair was mussed, something Leslie never allowed. When he approached the bed and leaned over to kiss her forehead, she opened her eyes.
“Will they be bringing the baby soon?”
“Yes, love, soon.”
“Wake me up when he comes.”
“I will, my love, I will.” It occurred to him as it hadn’t before, that now he would be sharing his wife’s love with a tiny baby. He hoped he could manage it.
The baby came and Leslie roused enough to gaze at him as Michael placed him in her arms. He made sure she had several minutes alone with her baby before he invited the contingent of women to descend on her. Endora Clarke said only how handsome the baby was and how much like Adam he looked when Leslie said, “Would you like to hold him?”
Looking like she’d been given the world, Endora’s throat was full. All she could do was nod. Her eyes bright with tears of joy, Adam’s mother reached down and plucked the little boy up to nestle in her arms.
“He’s so beautiful,” she said, her voice husky.
“Yes, he is,” Leslie said, smiling.
“It’s so kind of you to allow me to hold him when he’s so newly born.”
“You are his grandmother after all.”
Endora held him up to her nose. “Is there anything that smells as good as a freshly clean tiny baby?”
Althea had stood back, but now she gave Elizabeth a nudge forward. “There’s another grandmother here who would like a sniff.”
“Oh, yes.” With obvious reluctance, Endora handed the baby to Elizabeth. Leslie’s mother gazed down at her daughter’s baby with such a look of love that it was almost palpable in the room.
The night Michael brought Leslie and the baby home from the hospital, he settled her in bed and then brought the baby to her so she could feed him. On his side of the bed, he stripped out of his clothes and sat down to take off his shoes when Gabriel appeared before him.
Startled, he gave a quick glance at Leslie. Her eyes were closed. She had relaxed, something the nurse had told her was important to do so that her milk would come down and the baby would be well fed.
“She can’t see me.”
Michael grabbed a robe. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s time for you to make a decision, Michael. If you stay much longer, you will accustom the child to your presence. Even though he is a baby, he will feel your absence keenly, if, six weeks down the line, you decide to return to heaven. If you leave now, the baby will not have known you and he won’t miss you.”
Michael cast a glance at his sleeping wife and the baby that was hers alone. She didn’t need him now, not really. Without him, she could go to Florida and live with her family.
Or she could stay here and run the store with Herman. Endora Clarke would want to help with the baby’s upbringing. Althea Hudson had already given the baby a christening dress.
His job was done. Leslie was safe.
He could wipe Leslie’s mind clean of his presence. She would never remember he was here, nor would anyone else. His name was on the baby’s birth certificate but Michael had tucked that away in a hiding place.
“If you do not come back now, you will lose your immortality. You will become mortal and you will, in your time, die.”
“I’m ready to return,” he told Gabriel.
“I thought you might be. I brought everything you need.”
Michael slipped into the robe. It felt right. He remembered the familiar weight of his wings. He was just about to turn into a nebulous form when Leslie woke.
“Michael. What are you doing? You have wings? Where are you going? You can’t leave me.”
“You’re having a dream, Leslie. It’s all a lovely dream.” For me, too, he thought. “Goodbye, Leslie.”
‘Michael, no. You can’t leave. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Leslie. Now sleep. Sleep and then awaken with your boy. He needs you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Heaven was not as blissful as he thought it would be. Particularly since he could hear Leslie crying. She didn’t remember him during the day, but she dreamed of him at night and then she’d wake and cry. It broke his heart to hear her sobbing with grief.
He couldn’t go to her again. If he did, it would be the end of his time as an angel. There would be no coming back to heaven.
Surely she would stop crying soon.
But she didn’t. To make it worse, she would rise in the morning and go to the dresser where the pocket watch rested that she had given him for Christmas and hold it in her hand, caressing it. It was tangible proof that he had been there. He blamed himself for leaving it. He had forgotten it. He should have hidden it behind a brick in the chimney.
She was doing well in the store. The fact that she was an attractive woman with a baby in her arms was an irresistible image that kept customers lingering. The longer they stayed, the more likely they were to buy.
Some Kind of Angel Page 17